


Today and Tomorrow

by Shepromisedmenothing



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Implied Excoriation Disorder, Implied OCD, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 03:05:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shepromisedmenothing/pseuds/Shepromisedmenothing
Summary: An semi-short angst piece in which Kyungsoo absolutely cannot bring himself to go outside.





	

**_"In a dark room, a single ray of light comes through the windows."_ **

He stands in front of the door, staring at the wooden knob that he doesn't dare lay a finger on. It's morning, and he's dressed. He's showered, washed his hair, even eaten breakfast. _I_ _f_  he were to check his phone, he'd be met with the countless texts from his friends, asking if he was alright, asking where he was, asking him to _j_ _ust come home_. But he doesn't check his phone; in fact, he hasn't checked his phone in days. Because instead, he's been staring at the wooden doorknob, the one that leads outside, the one he's too afraid to open.

If he thinks about it, he doesn't need to go outside, really. In his shabby little hole of a hotel room, he has all the necessities of survival: food, clothes, a bed. Just the essentials, and that's all Kyungsoo really cares for. It's simpler that way. No unpredictable factors, no concerned voices to ask him about his "compulsions", or if he's "okay". Here, everything is within his range of control, and as long as that is the case, then he is okay. That's the talk he gives himself everyday.

But the door is tempting. He cannot deny that. He cannot deny the guilt he feels every time the thought of his friends worrying for him sneaks into his head. He cannot deny the pang of longing when he wonders if they're waiting for him, somewhere, sitting cross-legged and smiling in one of the hangout spots where they used to laugh together. Most importantly, he cannot deny the doubt that sinks in when he reasons with himself that it's all in his head. All that optimism? It's a cotton candy dream, and he can't afford to be woken up by reality again.

No, he can't deny **any** of that.

He is about to turn away, as he does every morning, and accept the logic that keeps him bound here. Become a victim of defeat. However, his body hesitates. All the days up until now, he hasn't worked up the nerve to reach out. 'Reach, twist, and push'-- it's a mantra that loops in his head, though he's never gotten far enough to carry it out. But today, his flesh makes contact with the polished finish of wood. The knob feels hard in his palm, cold and unfamiliar, but he does not pull away. All he has to do is twist and push now. He pretends that Chanyeol is on the other side of the door, alongside Jongdae, Suho, and Lay. Baekhyun would probably be up to some shenanigan teetering on the edge of dangerous and just plain idiotic. Minseok would be texting on his phone. Sehun and Kai too. All he has to do is close his eyes and take a deep breath and twist and then-

But then he notices the hand that's on the doorknob. It's **his** hand of course. It's a hand with little red sores as countless as the number of times he's been advised to get help, and as countless as the times he's ignored that advice. It's a hand littered with partially healed scabs and ugly scars because for some reason he can't help but claw at his own skin sometimes. He doesn't know why. It's a bad habit - an impulse, he's been told - that he's had for a while now, and sometimes he doesn't realize he's even doing it until he looks down and his fingers are slick with something red and congealed and glistening. He doesn't understand why it is when he's feeling particularly overwhelmed (whether it's due to work or anxiety or because sometimes people simply forget to reply to his texts) that scratching his skin until it bleeds seems to be the only way to calm his nerves.

Right now, for example, he is overwhelmed. His hand retracts, and without thinking, he's hugging himself, staggering over to the bed that he's made as neatly as he knows how and crawling onto it until he's a curled up ball laying still on his side. He stares at the window. During the time he spent standing by the door, it's gotten considerably bright outside. The dazzling brightness is the last thing on his mind though, and he most certainly cannot go outside to enjoy it.

Nobody else should have to suffer his problems. It'll only be a burden on himself and others if he goes outside. After all, it's no one else's fault that he's like this. No one's fault but his own.

Today, he will rest, and tomorrow, when he is ready, he will try again. Tomorrow he'll try harder. Tomorrow.


End file.
